Losing Her Lullaby (Revised)
by ashcandoanything
Summary: After years of living in a family that was more than ordinary, Riley Grayson is forced to endured the worse pain imaginable. Jason Todd was the brother Riley never biologically had, and he was her responsibility. What loss could be more tragic than that of a love one? Or worse, losing one's self in the process? (Fem!Nightwing) (Cross-Over for Blended Storyline)
1. Preface

Grief is an emotion that is born of grave loss, and loss is the unfortunate side effect of the most predominate disease found – _living_. Loss is a usual aspect in the business of heroism. It's normal to lose a friend or ally, and perhaps even a time or two, a villain that maybe didn't deserve to die. It was, however, never truly expected to lose someone you love personally. That was the hypocrisy of it all. Under the cowl, the hero was a person that had no wounds to bare. The villain at the end of the day could hurt them, but their anonymity concealed their civilian vulnerability. However, when in the circumstance the Wayne family lived and breathed, they were a part of a world, a lifestyle. They were vulnerable to pain, and to loss. That, unfortunately, was the circumstance that unfolded on this day, and a day that Riley Grayson would never in all her years forget.

She had been attending school on the day of the accident, her classes rolling in and out, she barely noticed the hours slip by. Riley Grayson had been attending Gotham University for about a month, and already was one of the most capable students. Her laughter was like wedding bells as she strolled through the hall, happy for once to be having a normal day. However, normalcy was never permitted in a family that lived and breathed danger, so these few hours strolling amongst the Gotham civilians' was a nice change.

As she made her way to the last class of the day, she heard the usual rumble of her mobile. A sigh tore from her lips as she knew that more than likely it was either her brother or father calling her to complain about some madness. She quickly pulled it from her purse and rolled her eyes at the area code of the mansion. She quickly ignored the call, noting that Bruce for once could deal with whatever monstrosity that had escaped Arkham that day. Riley deserved ONE moment of peace after all, and in the sanctuary of her books, she was free to do so. The class was a breeze and she couldn't help but allow herself to be absorbed into the material, her bag tucked away on the floor she didn't notice the influx of call after call that came through.

It wasn't until she exited the room, that she took out her phone to finally call her father back. As she unlocked the device she noticed message after message lighting up with a strobe light. Her brow rose and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. If they had needed her that badly what on Earth could have happened? She quickly began dialling away, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she ran down the steps of the hall heading toward her car. Within a ring, she received an answer and sighed into the receiver, "Look I'm sorry, I was in class and I didn't want to take out my phone. I'll be home in a bit. Do you think you can hold off until then?" She murmured expecting it to be her father. A small grumble echoed over the line as the other cleared their throat and she realised it was Alfred.

"Alfred what's going on, where's my father?" She called out as she finally made it to her car. "-Miss Grayson, I think it best if you hurry home." He replied quickly. Riley's stomach clenched as she began to quiver into her seat. Was Bruce hurt? Had she missed her father calling for backup? "I'm on my way." She replied before hanging up the phone. Speeding was never something Riley relied on, even more so since the entire of Gotham police department knew who she was, but that day Riley didn't care. From the University to Wayne Manor it was a thirty-minute drive, but the girl made it in fifteen.

As she turned in she saw the house seemingly abandoned, her brow furrowing as she quickly threw her things to the parlour and ran down to the elevator that led to the Cave. Her heart was racing and all she could think of was her father. What if he was hurt? What if they were in danger?

The doors opened wide, and she noticed Alfred standing across the room out of view. Bruce stood right in front of her, and in her head, she knew that he must have seen her on the security cameras. Her bright gaze turned up to him with a confused expression. "Tati? What's wrong, are you okay?" She asked carefully moving towards him. His eyes met hers with a solemn look, and for a moment, she felt a shiver of panic run through her. Bruce was standing there, Bruce was _fine_ , and yet it took all of two moments to realise who she hadn't considered. The one person in her mind that would never think to be hurt. Her gut bottomed out, eyes widened before looking at him.

"Where-?" She whispered, wanting to know where she had to go to be with her brother. If Jason was hurt or in the hospital, she needed to be with him. Riley better than anyone knew how to comfort him, knew how to ease his pain. Her little brother wasn't that much older than she was when she started and yet all she could do was think of him. However, Bruce's stance changed as Alfred came into better view, almost blocking her as she tried to flickered her gaze around him.

At once the man stood tall in front of her, hands cupping her shoulders in a sigh trying to gather words. "Where's Jason..." She gritted through her teeth as she yanked away from him. Her eyes finally making it around him to see Alfred standing by a table. On the table was a glimmer of skin and redness and Riley all at once felt her breath leaving her body.

Her eyes widened as a choking force slammed into her chest, she lurched forward in a jolt of adrenaline and fear, only to find her father grabbing hold of her tightly. She screamed, it was a choking and agonising sound. She thrashed against the man, and no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't manage to break loose from her father. Her brother wasn't...no it wasn't possible. All those calls, all those messages... _god no_. She couldn't have done this? She couldn't have been responsible for this.

The sobs didn't die, she thrashed and cursed and beat against her father until he pressed her tightly against his chest. Her choking breath in gasps rang muffled by his tight hold. It was horrific, and it was madness. Bruce's arms cradled her as she settled into his grasp, her form never wavering as he tried to move her away. If she had taken the minute to digest, she would have made a comment about Bruce never held her so tenderly. Her chest rose and fell in shutters, the brilliant blue orbs that normally pierced through her cowl were muddy with tears and dripping makeup.

Alfred's gaze never wavered, to broken to see Riley suffer so and yet, no one knew how broken she felt. It was like someone ripped her heart from her chest and broiled it. Her breath gone, she felt so faint she had to lean into her father for support. Riley wasn't sure how long Bruce toggled her there, she wasn't sure how long she had remained idle in her purgatory until Alfred moved over to them. "Miss Riley..." He murmured softly, and Riley only seemed to flinch. If no one spoke it wasn't real, if no one acknowledged her... _it wasn't real_. She shook her head, her face turning into her father's soaked and bloodied chest as he moved to pat her on the shoulder.

It didn't take long for Bruce to release her, pushing her further and further back, trying to spare her the vision of Jason's mangled body, but Riley was his sister. Riley would be with him no matter what. She finally broke free from her father, stumbling to pull herself over to the boy before witnessing the tragedy herself. It was like looking into hell, she thought, looking into utter darkness. Bruce quickly moved to stand behind her, his hands outreached still as if to pull her back to him. As Riley's gaze looked straight down at the body of her brother, she couldn't help but feel bile rise into her throat. Her fingers were red as she struggled to hold the metal table, her jaw clenched as she looked away for a moment trying to breathe.

His beautiful features now distorted, his cheeks bruised and bloodied as a smear escaped his slightly parted lips. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, choking back her tears, looking down at him for a moment and praying that it was just another bad dream. There lie the single most precious thing in her life and she didn't know what to do. Jason, her rescue. Jason, her brother. The boy she had saved and held. All those nightmares, all those bad memories. She had pulled him through each one. He was her secret keeper, her partner in crime, _he was her best friend_. Her eyes squeezing tight in agony she clenched her fist leaning over to bury her face against his chest.

She cried, and with her arms wrapped around him, she cried for what felt like hours. There were no words that could be said that didn't already flow from her mouth. 'I'm sorry.' 'Don't hate me.' 'I love you.' 'Come back...'. There was only so much pain worth watching, and Bruce could watch his daughter suffer no more. He moved to touch her shoulder gently, wanting to pull her away but she shook her head stubbornly. His lips parted to ask her to return with him, to let Alfred finish preparing him for burial, and yet he knew there was no point. Riley would stay with Jason until she was pried away from him, and right now Bruce didn't have the strength to make her suffer anymore.

She pushed the thin plastic sheet that covered his torso away, wanting to look at the extent of everything to somehow, _understand_ better? A part of her knew that she was only going to hurt herself more, and yet it didn't seem to matter. She pushed herself up, sitting on the table beside him as her trembling figures brushed aside a small fragment of his suit from his shoulder. There was an evident gash that was no longer bleeding, it looked dark and bruised, but in the way, a cold piece of steak looked, not the beautiful boy that was her little brother. Riley pulled one of the pieces of gauze off the nearby gurney and dampened it with the peroxide beside it. She slowly began dabbing at the wound, in some strange way trying to heal it.

It wasn't long until she was alone, Bruce finally giving up trying to pry the crying girl away. The cave fell into near silence, and the only light was a single swaying halogen lamp above the table. There were no more tears falling from her gaze, her sobs only trembling against her barren soul, and she laid herself down beside the boy with no regard. Her arm drapping over his tiny form as she buried her face into his hair. In some small way, he still smelled like cinnamon and lemons, and she could remember how often she would find him crawling into her bed late at night. How often she would pull her blankets back and hold him until the nightmares were far away.

Her eyes closed and for a moment she so desperately wanted to believe that the boy in her arms was asleep, and she could lull him into a world of warmth and delight. The song came to mind, as she had so often sung it to him as a boy. "Noapte buna dragostea mea... voi sta cu tine pentru toldeauna. Pentru totdeauna dragostea mea...ca am merge in soare." She sings softly beneath her newly forming tears, fingers brushing down his cheek as she pulled herself closer to him. "-tu si cu mine, sa creasca vechi impreuna, dulce meu, dragostea mea... pentru totdeauna mai mult..." The song lofted into the stones of the cave, a small and broken voice sending the sweet tones into the cracks and crevices of the cave and up into the home.

Riley didn't leave Jason, not until the wee hours of the morning until, whether through complete exhausting or deliberate ignorance, she found herself moved and sent into a sleep of her own back in her warm bed. Bruce never mentioned to Riley what he had heard, and nor would he ever want to. The soft song that fell from her lips was a moment of privacy and intimacy that _wasn't_ for him. Bruce knew that Riley would savour moment of her old tongue with Jason, whispering around him like it was a smoke screen and they were two ghosts dancing a hidden tune. Bruce's heart may have already been shattered, but no more so when his daughter tried to sing her brother back to life. That was the moment he lost everything, that was the moment he lost both his children. Riley's song echoed throughout the house, and all anyone could do was turn their gaze away. It was too intimate, too personal...too painful. It was loss, terrible loss, and it was Riley who had to suffer it alone in the darkness.


	2. Blüdhaven Oasis

The world around her was soft and sweet. The air within the vaulted room seemed almost thin and icy. It was comfortable, and yet almost crisp as she snuggled beneath her billowing blankets. Riley needed her late mornings, she needed the near midday eclipse of sunshine through the shades and the groan of an old fan that had been kept on for far too long. Her long black curls stuck to her throat and as she turned over away from the piercing light, she felt a sticky blandness in her throat. She craved to crawl from her oasis and brush her teeth, but the warmth and security of her little cocoon was too tempting.

She had decided to lay in bed for quite some time, drifting in and out of consciousness in what she had comically named her 'thinking' period. It was supposed to be the fifteen to twenty minutes she planned her day from the safety of her bed. In reality, it had become fifteen to twenty minutes stringing together useless thoughts as she fell back and forth between reality and dreams. It was a time of reflection, mostly revolving hating herself for staying up yet another hour editing her articles for her internship.

Riley Grayson Wayne, famously beautiful and delightful heiress to the Wayne Enterprise fortune, was about a hundred miles away from home in a cosy little city small enough to do well, but big enough to not get her name in the papers. When she moved here after college, she had known that she was leaving behind so much of a life in Gotham. She had a father and two new brothers that she had sworn to protect and love. She had friends and allies, and a life that would have her name written on it, _should_ she ever desire it.

In some ways she was grateful, happy even, that so much of her home was available for her to come back to. Yet she knew when she pulled herself out of her drowsy fort of comforters, slipping on her obnoxiously bright childlike slippers, that she was making a life for herself away from the wonders of home. The blanket still tightly wrapped around her shoulders she made her way slowly and begrudgingly out of her bedroom and into the small adjoined bathroom. One of the conditions that came with leaving home, was leaving the luxury of heated floors and fresh made coffee waiting for her.

Her new home, however, was not too bad. She had a shower with enough room to turn around in a full circle, a toilet that flushed instead of making a strange gurgling sound, and floors that didn't chip away if someone wore something other than obnoxiously bright fuzzy slippers. Riley managed to make the money on her own, using what little savings she had made on her own with side projects in school. She invested in some ways, and in others, got by when she needed to. Her main goal was her job at the local publication office. Riley had fallen in love with reading other people's work. She wasn't much of a writer herself, but she had found a distinct love in judging other people's work.

This was the little life Riley had _created_ , away from the madness she had left so desperately. She didn't like to think about Gotham, and perhaps, that was why so often she buried her nose into the different books at work. If Riley could run away into a world that was completely different than her own, she was safe from the pain and insanity that was waiting for her only a few miles away. She often got calls from her little brothers at her office, and sometimes if she was feeling incredibly sentimental, she would listen to their voicemails. More than often they were short, informative, and direct, and yet sometimes they dug her heart out. They would leave her tearing up and clutching the phone to her ear trying to absorb and savour every word.

Bruce had told Tim and Damian not to contact Riley. He didn't want them to "bother" her, or distract her from the hard work she was doing. Damian, perhaps, was young enough to fall for their father's lies. He didn't understand why Riley had left, and after nearly three years watching him, his surrogate mother didn't want to be around him. That wasn't the case, and it nearly killed her to hear his tiny voice whisper into the phone that he wanted her home. She knew that he had dragged the line into some closet and was trying to avoid Alfred or Bruce catching him. Tim, on the other hand, wasn't phased by Bruce's threats and would call even if the man was in the same room. He would update Riley on their lives, and often tell her what he was doing in school or Damian's day to day. Tim understood why Riley had left, and that was a kindness Riley couldn't muster words for.

Her father, however, never called. Instead, she got random emails or letters from him only from Wayne Enterprise facilities, and in some ways, she wondered if he was trying to keep her new home a secret from anyone who may find her. Riley wasn't in danger, at least to her knowledge, she had only left home to try and live a life she was sure to lose in that world. Riley wanted to be normal and breathe again. She couldn't have that in Gotham, but now she could try.

Returning back to her mission, Riley pulled her toothbrush from her counter in the bathroom and began to lather it in water and toothpaste. She set to work in cleaning her mouth out of the post-coma binge of sleep she had once or twice a week. As she did, she wandered from her bathroom into the small conjoining sitting room and kitchenette that was adjoined to the small bedroom and bath. She kicked off her slippers, falling into her cheap couch and spitting into an empty cup on the nearby table. It wasn't particularly elegant, but home was home. Lady like wasn't Riley's style anyhow.

As she pulled her blanket tighter, she yanked the remote out from under her pillows and flipped on the news. She tried to avoid anything too particular, and instead, settled on what looked eerily like a younger Martha Stewart and decided that learning about tampon ghosts three months past Halloween couldn't be too terrible of a way to spend her Sunday morning. The day dragged on, and for some time, she thought she had slipped back into her drowsy twilight. Her bright blues cracked open after some time and noticed an alert flickering across the bottom of her small television screen.

The usual routine in that event had been to religiously turn off the television, bury her nose into something, and not think about what was happening. There had been many threats that had slipped by involving her family that she had to pretend weren't happening to avoid the pull in her gut to run home. It wasn't Riley's job anymore to take care of Gotham, and if her family still wanted to, there was nothing she could do about it.

It seemed regardless of whatever she wanted to do, she stilled watched the scrolling text slip by in bolded letters as it read, "Batman and Robin seen chasing masked drug king across the tops of Gotham last night, gunshots confirmed but no reports on the status of Batman and the Boy Wonder." Riley's stomach lurched, her fingers clutching the remote as she sat it down beside her quickly clicking off the television. Her head fell back into the couch's tattered fabric and she couldn't help but let out a sigh of regret for not being quicker. Now would start the secondary ritual of fighting and struggling NOT to check on them.

It had been a silent agreement that when Riley left, she LEFT, there would be no Christmas or Birthday calls from her. She would let them move on and live a life on their own. Damian and Tim's calls only digging a deeper grave into her guilt as they didn't seem to give up. A year later and it didn't waver, they always called and she never answered. She wondered if they still hoped she would, and a part of her wished it wasn't so. She knew that it was safer, they would have less to worry about and Riley would truly be out of the life. No more worries and fear. Every phone call that rang wouldn't' send her into a panic attack.

She wanted to pretend she hadn't seen it, but she couldn't, and as she stared back at the black pixel screen she couldn't help but want to hear their voices again. They didn't have her cell number, not even Bruce had that, but they had her work number. Riley only assumed that they had gotten it from hacking into Bruce's system. It was him, after all, that had gotten her the job, Riley only finding out about that AFTER she had been there for several months. Her father had a way of protecting her, and she couldn't fault him. As she tampered with her thoughts she pulled out her phone to see the picture of herself and Damian snuggled in her bed. It was aching and beautiful, and it reminded her that she had a home.

Her ocean blues were watering, and she decided that blocking her number wouldn't get her anywhere. She lived close enough to home that a number with the area code wouldn't send up any red flags. As she punched in the number for the house, she held her breath hoping that her stomach wouldn't revolt in a hurricane of nerves. The phone rang, and slowly, she counted each of her breaths as the appending dial found a click. Someone picked up the phone, and for a moment, she couldn't feel anything but her hairs stand straight up on her body. A pause ensued, soon followed by a confused, but quiet, hello. The voice soothed every ache in her body as she melted back into the couch. Damian, she thought, _my sweet boy_.

Her tears finally broke in a moment of agony and joy, but she stifled her breath in an attempt not to give herself away. A longer pause echoed over the line and the small boy shuffled with the phone before a louder voice echoed over the passing line. "Who is this?" It quipped lightly but directly. _Tim_ , she automatically connected before leaning forward to steady herself. The voice was older, and even though she had last heard his call only a month ago, she felt already so much had changed. Her lips parted, and for a second, she thought she would break every rule to speak to him. "Is anyone there?" He followed with, his' breathe slightly more agitated, as he moved to set the receiver on his shoulder.

Riley could tell he was trying to get out of Damian's eyesight, and she knew that was no easy process when the little monster was curious about something. "Look, I'm hanging up now," Tim finally rolled on before it sounded like he was pulled the phone away from his ear. "You sound tired," She finally whispered, and it was like a rubber band had snapped in her gut. Her green skin seemed almost flushed at relief and she could tell by the breath-stealing silence that Tim had caught her near silent retort. Now she could tell something was happening, his steps were quicker as a whine echoed through the other end, Tim shutting a door behind him separating him from his little brother.

"Riley?" Her little brother whispered softly, almost tenderly, and her eyes flickered shut in a breach of emotion. She felt a sob break her lips in the form of a laugh, a snotty and tired laugh, but it was such a relief to hear him she didn't care. "You scared me, I saw the news and I didn't know if you were okay," She responded lightly, almost returning back to a more civilised breath. He was silent for a moment, digesting her words before responding, "I'm fine, and so is Damian. I'm sorry we scared you." It was almost clinical, and she knew that it was Bruce's silent affirmations to the boys not to send Riley over the edge that was coming out.

"You don't have to baby me, Tim, I just wanted to hear your voices," Riley responded almost hollowly, her free hand digging into the loose strands of her blanket. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you, we've been really busy." He replied yet again, almost automatically. It was frustrating her, that she couldn't be there to show him she was fine. Riley was doing good, and she was the same girl that had gave him his first training class and stitches. However, she couldn't burden him more, knowing that the second Bruce found out it was her that breached their agreement, she WOULD hear about it.

"I appreciate your messages, they mean a lot to me," Riley said honestly, wanting him to understand that she was grateful for his kind actions. He was doing this because it was easier. It gave Riley the satisfaction that he and Damian were safe, but didn't force her to involve herself in things that could otherwise pull her back into a life she couldn't bare anymore. "Well I just want to keep you updated, you always use to make me bring home updates from school, so I didn't want to break tradition," He said, this time almost softer, more of _him_ in the sarcastic but charming words. Riley laughed, a pure and honest laugh, and for a moment, she wished she could hug him tight.

"I'm so proud of you Tim, you're so amazing and kind, you're a great older brother to Damian and I'm so grateful Tati has you," Riley added earnestly, not wanting to waste a moment they had together. Tim was silent again, and then noises echoed again. This time she thought she heard banging, and she couldn't tell who was doing it. "He's home, I have to go," Tim whispered near silently. There was a tightness in his voice, almost pained to be losing her so soon. "I love you, Tim. I miss you. Please, _please_ , be safe," She begged him softly, needing to hear him promise all over again. "I will be, I'll keep on eye on them, alright?" She laughed again, his tight voice laughing again before the line quickly went dead behind her.

The phone dropped from her shoulder and she stared once more back at the television screen, glad that for a moment, she had taken the time to do something stupid but worth it. Her hands once again found the remote, and slowly, she clicked back to life the box. The familiar shriek of knock-off Martha Stewart echoed back on the screen, this time talking about tissue paper flowers, and she knew that her day was a little better.

Riley continued her binge watching, snuggling into her warm blankets for several more hours until the night dragged back into the sky. Her eyes tired once again, she wondered if she had wasted an entire weekend, or if the delightful knowledge she had now acquired about DIY crafts, was worth the headache building in her temples. Either way, she was satisfied, glad to know that for a few minutes, she was given a peace of mind.

After the last episode stretched out, and the usual late night infomercials began to play, she dragged herself back up from the couch and headed her way into the bedroom once more. Hopefully, tomorrow at work would be a bit more exciting, and she would find a way to take her mind off the gruelling desire to pack her bags and run back to her family. She pulled the tight blanket off her as she came to stand by her bed. As she threw it over the mattress, she tucked the corners into the edge of the bed to make sure she would be sealed tightly in.

Once she was sure her bed was made, she pulled her hair tie from her wrist as she complied her messy locks atop her head. As the last raven spiral twisted into the elastic, she didn't notice the change in atmosphere. In near silent room even more silent than usual, and moving to slip off her slippers, she felt a rush of air behind her. Two large arms locked around her and within a moment her adrenaline spiked. She thrashed and screamed, trying to sling her way out of the intruders grasps in hopes of getting her hands on them.

Riley had been out of action for awhile and had a couple more pizza's than Bruce would have allowed the boys. However she wasn't weak, and she put up a fight. Her nails dug into her attacker's wrists and she heard a hiss behind her, the person shoving her down into her bedding. Riley scuffled and grabbed at the comforter trying to pull herself over it. The attacker, however, was quickly grabbing her ankle and dragging her back, covering her mouth with one hand and twisting her down into the bedding whilst gathering her wrists into his hand.

It didn't matter how much she kicked and fought, after what felt like an eternity, she heard a tiny ' _tink_ ' of plastic against her wooden floors and with a gasp of breath felt a sharp prick into her throat. Her kicking and screaming waned and strained into a gurgling sound. The intruder's hands slipping around her waist until they could pull her back against their chest. Her head lulling to the side she felt a hot breath on her ear as she fell in between worlds once again. She choked on her own cries, her throat burning as whatever spread through her quickly caused her stance to crumple into the others.

As she blacked out, she felt her legs being swept up into the arms of the assailant, her head falling into the chest of the brute unable to do anything but scream internally at her attacker. Oh Tim, if only you had warned me. If only she had known, maybe she would have run home in a moment.


	3. Masked Madness

It was dark. In fact, it was almost unreasonably dark, so much so, that Riley could immediately put together that she was underground in some kind of bunker. Her squinting gaze strained in the darkness, she could make out a faint outline of halogen lights swinging above as if the stale air somehow still could rock them. As she twisted slightly, she expected the usual onslaught of agony that accompanied her usual kidnapping. She, however, was met with little resistance as only her wrists seemed to twist in a binding of, _cotton_? Did someone actually bind her wrist in a tie or ripped shirt?

Come to think of it, she wasn't really _THAT_ uncomfortable either. Her back was against what felt like a cushioned piece of leather, that after some twisting, she felt the imprint of a zipper into her back shoulder. She was lying atop a jacket? On top of what? Someone had actually taken the time to carefully nestle her against something soft. They hadn't dragged her or dropped her, nor did she feel any bruises besides the knot in her neck from the needle digging in.

It was concerning almost, to wonder who had taken such care to kidnap the girl. If it were just any villain, they would have chained her to the wall in some dark hole, but Riley was propped up by a jacket and what she only assumed beneath was an old pillow or blanket. _Her blanket_ , she suddenly thought before she tried to pull herself up from her makeshift bedding.

Her black hair that she had pulled atop her head now hung behind her left ear in a loosened messy state. Her clothes were dishevelled, but no more than what would have been after the fight. She seemed almost left alone, and she couldn't help but feel even more uneasy at that. Normal would be fine, normal would mean she would react as she always had and it would work itself out. This strange oddity left her alone and terrified, she had no idea what she was up against, and it worried her deeply.

As her eyes started to adjust to the utter blackness, she realised that there was a figure only a few feet away. Her brow furrowed, and in her drowsy state, she pulled at her ties and realised she was independent of the wall beside her. She was able to roll from her inclined position and find herself back on her knees. Her head rushed with blood, and for a moment, her stomach twisted like she might be sick. She hated roofies, she hated feeling less than her best and now she was trying to find out who else was trapped here.

Once she let out a few chilled breathes, she hobbled her way over a few feet in the utter darkness, she was trying to be quiet but her clumsiness in the half woken state made her far more noisy than she had planned to be. After a moment, she was close enough to the other to squint her gaze to try and make them out. Their head hung, seemingly unconscious, and they too were leaning back against what appeared to be a broken boiler. Riley shuffled again, twisting until she was right in front of them with one last push, and noticed now in the foot or so difference that the person had bright gleaming hair.

Right against the knee of the cross-legged creature she noticed the back end of an arrow and her stomach dropped. As she opened her gaze and focused, she saw the resemblance of Gotham's worst with chalky white paint peeling from the face and a twisted smile sown into the cheeks. The worst was the right eye, forced wide open with a long rod shoved straight through the back of the skull. Blood dripped from the black quiver and she could help but wail in surprise as the pieces fell together.

She fell back on her heels, kicking and scampering, as she fell away. With a smack into the concrete flooring, she sprawled out her legs to push her away from the corpse. Tears choked her throat and she cried out a mangled sob. What in the seven hells was going on? Who could have done this? Who would _dare_? As she twisted her face against the concrete, she pulled at her bound wrists again trying to break free. Her stomach lurches as she felt herself gag at reflex.

It wasn't long until she scurried back against the wall from where she had come, hiccups of agony strained from her throat as she struggled to turn her face away from the now barely visible creature. She felt light headed, and she felt like she would do anything now to be home with those she loved. _She cried_. She cried because she missed her family and because she missed her safe little home. She savoured the sound of Tim and Damian's voice in her ear and wished she could hear them again.

In the darkness she felt numb, the freezing air making the hairs on her bare arms stand up. For a while, she had seemingly sunk back into haze off, only to jolt awake at the groaning sound of an artificial light springing to life directly above her. Her eyes closed tight, searing with the sudden ache of light before twisting her scrunched up expression. She noticed a form coming from the shadows, and within a moment of eerie silence, the heavy boot of the intruder slammed into the back of the corpse and it smashed into the ground.

Riley recoiled in a concealed gasp of breath. Fear twisting in her gut, and for a moment, she buried her face back in the direction of the wall. It wasn't until her breathing once again was the only sound of the room that she picked up a faint demonic laughing that sounded almost robotic. It was startling as she pulled her pale features away from the wall again. She peered through the light and noticed the now face first in the ground corpse. It was making the noise? Her brow furrowed openly and she couldn't help but turn her gaze openly to the intruder.

It was hard to make him out at first, his face concealed by the strong shadow of light that haloed behind him. However, after a long moment of readjusting, she was able to make out the dark outline of a mask that gave NOTHING away. She sighed internally before turning her attention back to the corpse. The demonic laughter began again, like a tape on repeat, and suddenly she began to notice things she didn't in the dark. It was stiff, and not the sort associated with post-mortem, a likeness of artificially made it up. Her bright blues stayed fixed as suddenly the giant boot lifted again and smashed into the skull of the corpse.

Again she stifled a gasp of breath, choking out a squirming whimper, as his long gloved hands grabbed the extended arrow tip and pulled it out through the back of the skull. Riley gagged audibly, her face twisting before she cut sight of something very particular. She didn't see blood, nor did she see gore or anything that would indicate previous life. "It's not real," She croaked, her voice strained from the dry sobs and trembling.

The masked man stared at her for a long silent moment, pulling his foot away from the now quite clear crushed dummy. Now Riley was increasingly confused, that artificial creation was so life like, she knew its creation was solely for the impression of torture. She couldn't fathom why, of all things, this would be her suffering? Why would someone purposely try and make her suffer the murder of a villain she herself had tried to destroy? Did they know who she was? Did they realize what she had _done_?

Her chest rose and fell so quickly and all she wanted was to be far away. The masked man moved away from the dummy, arrow still taut in his hands as he walked towards her. Riley panicked, kicking back into the wall and wanting to crash back through it. She shook her head in a following sob, a desire to beg and plead like Nightwing never had. She felt the tip of the cold metal arrow brush against her cheek and her chest clenched in revulsion. She wanted to scream. She wanted to thrash and break through the holds that kept her bound.

"Breathe," The voice echoed behind the mask and she turned to glare at him, mouth open with shock. "Breathe?" She repeated back to the man with utter disbelief. He wanted her to breathe? Her blue gaze flared as she pulled away from the wall and trying to pull herself up. The arrow pulled away from her quickly as the man realised what she was doing. He was trying to pull harm AWAY from her. "You drug me, kidnap me from my home, make me watch _THAT_ , and ask me to breathe?!" She hissed, a growl under her voice, as she realised that she was swinging back and forth with her struggle.

"Careful, you're going to wear yourself out," He replied again, this time dropping the weapon to the floor before putting his hands on either side of her shoulder to steady her. She jerked away, her back falling into the wall as she turns her gaze. Teeth clench as she tried so desperately to not allow him to touch her. He retracted, staring down at her again with eyes she couldn't quite see completely. The thin material stretched over his eyes masked everything in a pale grey darkness. "Wouldn't that be your desire? Wear me out? Make me docile, so you can shove that arrow through my skull?" She spat out quickly, but clearly exhausted.

He surprised her then, laughing a small tight laugh that made her hair once again stand on edge. Her gaze fell back on his own, knowing that she was looking him in the eye even if she couldn't quite see them. He was nearly a foot taller than she was and built much better. He was lean, even beneath all the clunky armouring. The suit, however, carved along his muscles and she knew that he wouldn't be so easily underestimated.

"I have no intention of hurting you now." He responded carefully, his amusement fading before he once again reached out with flat palms. He was trying to calm her like a trainer would calm a rabid animal. Her eyes were wide and cautious, but she allowed him to come closer. He had no intention of hurting her? Then why the show? Why torture her like this? Was he trying to get a rise? Was he trying to drive her mad? Her eyes flickered shut as he touched her shoulders and she winced in discomfort.

Riley didn't believe that the assailant was trustworthy, or worth the reluctance she was giving him. "Please, I just want to go home," She whispered under her breath. The man smirked under his thin mask before straightening her out again. "I'm sure you do," He replied and suddenly he swung his arms under her and picked her up. "Bridal style?" She choked, trying not to begin her very prominent desire to grab him by the throat. "Only the best for Gotham's treasured princess," He replied.

 _Gotham's Princess_? She was kidnapped because of Bruce? Her chest let out an exhale as suddenly things made sense again. This was about money. This was about blackmailing and bribing her father for her safety. That she could deal with, that she understood. If she was Riley to this man, she wouldn't be able to do certain things to give herself away. She was quiet, and for once, the man seemed amused about it.

He walked her out of the cellar, leaving the giggling corpse back on the floor behind them, as he turned into a hallway that reminded her of a submarine deck. It was vaulted and sealed with large strips of welded metal. Her gaze flickered around again before resting at the door he was walking her to. She struggled then, and he quickly tightened her, shushing her lightly, "Relax, you're going to be perfectly fine." Her blue orbs widened, and for a long terrifying moment, she realised she was not fine. She was not safe. She was sick, and weak, and trapped. She was terrified.


	4. V for Vendetta

There was an ache in her skull that she didn't really fathom getting from snoozing on the couch. As she rolled onto her side, she found a different material wrapped around her middle. Her eyes squinting open for what felt like the hundredth time that week, she noticed a warm buzz of a heater nearby. Where was she? Her thoughts moving in circles before it all returned to the forefront. Riley's brow furrowed and slowly she pulled herself from the position of ease she had held. Someone had kidnapped her for money. Her long hair now free from its restraints and falling around her collar, she couldn't help but take a steadying breath. So she had been kidnapped, she thought to herself, _now what_? She glanced around the small room and didn't notice much but the utter normalcy of it. The blanket wrapped around her was her own, but the small glass of water that sat on the table was certainly not hers.

What in the blazes was going on? Did some Joker wanna-be kidnap her into his fifty shades of fucked up sex dungeon? She folded her arms around her legs before letting out an annoyed sigh. Riley didn't have many options, nor did she had the luxury of catapulting herself out the window to her immediate left or try to pick the lock to her dungeon. After she pulled the material away from her form, she crawled out of the small twin bed and moved out onto the cold tile. Her feet brushed against the textured stone before glancing around the room. There was the bed she had awoken in, a small table beside it, and a rather large mirror that sat adjacent from the bed.

As she raked her eyes over her form, she couldn't help but feel all the more uneasy. Prior to that moment she had looked into the mirror with a somewhat satisfaction, she would never be the unstoppable force she used to be but she didn't _hate_ herself anymore. Now as she looked over herself the glimmering ocean orbs were faded and worried. Her jaw was clenched slightly and she realised she was hungry and still exhausted. This is what it felt like to be a prisoner, yet it was strangely becoming in her sadness. There wasn't a difference anymore, and as she waded through the emotions she had long since come to ignore, she knew that she was lost in too deep a realm. As the mirror entrapped her gaze, she couldn't help but jump at the sound of the door opening quickly, she stumbled back and glared openly at the figure that entered the room.

No words were exchanged within the first few moments, and yet, she knew all too well what he was probably thinking. How he would use her to his advantage, what money he could make, and what pleasures he could take. Bludhaven was no different than Gotham when it came to the diseased and filthy, and she knew that whatever this creature had planned, she was out for the count. "Who are you?" She asked quietly, her gaze held firm what she could see within the mask. He took a step closer, his heavy boots sloshing against the tile so she could only suspect he had most recently been out in the weather. "Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask," He answered with docile tone. Her lips parted momentarily before she quickly shut them again. Her fingers curled into her hands as she couldn't help but be amazed at the audacity of his words.

"V for Vendetta," She remarked before moving away from the wall slowly. He turned his head in observation of her, letting a small laugh escape his lips. "Very good," He replied moving suddenly back out the door, leaving it open. She stared at it for a moment, trying to contemplate his game. Was this a puzzle? Did they expect her to play a role in this twisted fantasy? He had made no mention of her family, no mention of money or even things _LESS_ than pleasurable. What on earth could he gain from this sick amusement? As she carried on in her troubled thoughts, she moved closer to the door. Step by step she examined what lay ahead, trying to determine what actions to take.

Her eyes peeked around the door only to see a brightly lit hallway with lush panels of books and framing. A scholar and a mental patient, she couldn't help but remark to herself. Riley moved out of the room and quietly inched down the hallway. For as bright as the hall was it was nothing in comparison to what lay around the corner. As she turned, she noticed a vaulted ceiling encrusted in bright paintings and peeling gold leaf. It was gorgeous, old and somewhat frail, but so very beautiful compared to the dark halls that led her in. Her steps paused in front of the entrance only to notice the man's shadow glittering through the door at the other end. It was like a game of chase, and yet she didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. Why wasn't she stopping? As she looked around, she saw window after window that peered outward into fields of grass and wheat, they were hidden away in some hillside and she felt as if they were in some Gothic style church.

The warmth of the room suddenly seemed to touch her cheeks as a broiling heat wafted out the smell of syrup and sweets. She continued on her trek after the masked man and for a moment felt aligned with Alice wandering down a rabbit hole that she dared not run away from. The room she met, as with the man, led her into a small kitchen that seemed abuzz with crackling breakfast. Her brow once again furrowed she couldn't help but laugh stunted in amazement.

"Well I must confess, you're the best captor I believe I've ever had," She remarked dryly. He paused in his movements, turning to glance back at her briefly, "We will see how long you hold that assumption." He returned to finishing the last of the meats before turning to lay a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of her. Her blue orbs paused at the sight before backing away from him cautiously. "If it's money you want, you'll find that I've been cut off," Her voice low and calm.

The man made no distinctive movement other than resting his hands against the edge of the small island between them. "If I wanted your money I would simply take it, what I took was not money was it?" He replied carefully before turning back away from her once more poking at the pan. "You took me," She answered his unspoken question. " _But why_? I'm an intern for a publication office, and all I do is proofread and write correspondence. I live in a tiny apartment. I have no money and no immediate family." The man paused when she said this, her eyes fixing to the back of his head as he moved out from behind the island and quickly to her. Riley stumbled back, his thick leather coverings showing nothing but the ripple of what lie beneath, for all she knew Commissioner Gordon could be holding her hostage and yet she couldn't shake this feeling of familiarity. "You don't have a father or brothers?" He asked like he was baiting her into an argument.

She shook her head, knowing that it was a lie but the same time meaning it to some truth. "I'm adopted," Her words were soft, honest and worried. She was worried that this man seemed so distinct in reply. He paused before stepping closer, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back into the brightly lit room she had passed through. "Hey!" She yelled, struggling in his grip before shoving her elbow hard into the leather padding. He huffed in frustration, less in pain, and now she realised how screwed she was. He tossed her into the couch sitting in the middle of the room, it was anything but gently, and she hoped quickly that she hadn't made it all the worse for herself. "Do you want to be a prisoner? Do you want me to throw you onto the couch and show you what evil men do to little girls like you?" His voice near still, almost seething, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Her gaze didn't waver, and she wasn't afraid of him. She was merely afraid of what would happen if she did find herself in a position of needing to protect herself. Riley wasn't suicidal, nor would she certainly allow this beast to hurt her. Her raven locks fell around her face as she moved to pull herself up to the edge of the couch. He moved closer, each step steady and carefully placed. His fingers twitching beneath the leather gloves, she couldn't help but let her chest rise and fall, if her eyes reflected fear she would have succeeded in her end of the game.

"Or would you prefer me to find out about more about your nonexistent family, and see what they would prefer me to do?" Her shoulders rolled forward as she sat completely up. "If you want to threaten me, go ahead, if you want to violate me or harm me, _feel free_. Don't threaten civilians, don't threaten children," Her words were equally quiet, and her eyes were alight with a blaze that simmered below the surface.

"I wouldn't harm a child for any amount of money in the world," He carefully replied before moving to touch the side of her face with his outstretched hand. Her breath stalled in her chest, and she stared at him venomously. The leather was cool against her face and as the back of his index and middle finger slid over her cheekbone she felt ill. She was a _treat_ to him, a mere toy that he could play with. Riley was so sure she had figured him out, a pervert wanting to prey on the weak and the OUTCAST. As his thumb brushed at her jawline skimming closer to her slightly parted lips she flinched at the sudden removal of his touch. He didn't waver, his eyes burning beneath the mask with no physical proof to be held. She knew he was staring at her, and yet she couldn't help but stare back into the emptiness. "You, however, I will have a great deal of fun with," He finished before turning to walk back into the small kitchen area.

Her eyes wide, she couldn't fathom what had happened, this was beyond her training and beyond her understanding. Riley was a trained genius. She could hack into any computer, turn tricks and flips into the soaring sky, outwit and outsmart any foe, and yet as this man stared down at her beneath her mask she couldn't help but feel hopelessly outgunned. It was an eternity until she moved again, pulling away from the edge of the couch she glanced around with a more collected mind. The daze he had enacted washing away she now was determined to end this ridiculous charade. Her feet back on the cool floor as she moved back towards the bedroom she had been left in. It was when she passed through the hall she remembered the vaulted stunning ceiling that shined light in. The windows were revolving and from what she could tell they spun backwards to allow a crevice of air through.

She stared at it momentarily before moving back into the room and crawling back into the bed. Riley knew that she would have to play the waiting game now and find a moment where she didn't feel the man breathing down her neck. If it had been Nightwing who had been ensnared, she wouldn't have hesitated to get herself out, but she wouldn't risk the cover being blown for the boys' sake. Riley had to stay, even if it meant risking herself, if only for a bit longer to satisfy normalcy. After roughly an hour, she heard footsteps echo in the hall. She pulled herself from the bedding and moved down to the opposite of it. Her back against the exterior wall, the top of her head was the only thing to show over the bed. Her legs pulled into her arms as she buried her face away from sight hoping that the man would pass her by with no regard. A quiet prisoner she didn't bother to fight, she accepted his solitude by appearance only and would hope that in doing so he would allow space.

However, that was not what carried out, and as he entered the bedroom she felt the clicking of the nozzle of the heater. As the warm rush of air turned off, she felt the outside creep in through the exterior walls cracks and crevices. "Penny for the Guy?" He mused quietly as he rounded the end of the bed and intruded into her space. The curls falling around her face like a waterfall she gritted her teeth in frustration. She wanted nothing more than to kick this snarky little pricks ass and yet she had to sit there like a child praying that her father would have noticed her gone. Surely her work would have reported her missing? Wayne Enterprises owned the company, after all, surely her father had rats there to keep an eye on her.

He moved closer yet again, this time bending down ever so slightly to reach out and brush a fallen lock of hair back over her head. She winced turning her expression just slightly to express discomfort before he let a soft chuckle echo through the dark mask. "You would be a beautiful little mouse if I believed this act," His voice soft and full of detached humour. Her teeth slid over her lips as she stared down into the folded crevices of her arms. "I think we both know there is nothing within you that could ever be afraid. No, I rather think you like it. A chill down your spine, something odd and strange," He continued before his fingers slipped beneath her jaw and pulled it up to look back into the mask. She had prepared for this, straining against the reality she had forced tears to gather in her eyes to stare hopelessly back up at the monster. He paused, his thumb brushing over the edge of her bottom lip before uttering a soft hum of distinctive dissatisfaction. She had thrown him off, and whether or not he realised how purposeful that was, she didn't know.

"Riley Tabitha Grayson Wayne," He breathed beneath the mask, his deep force almost saying the words like a lullaby, she felt her stomach wretch in the most honest of forms. He had done his research, and he knew how she was. Her blue gaze locked with the masks again, her small form trembled against his grip. Riley was so sure she was putting on the show of a lifetime with this monster, and yet in her gut, she felt a bubble of what was genuine fear. What if her father didn't know she was here? What if she really was on her own, like she had asked? Did that mean she was left to defend herself now? If she escaped, would this guy put together the pieces? So many questions raced through her mind and yet all she could do was stare at him almost desperately.

"What do you think I'm going to do to you?" He asked softly, prompting her to answer by raising his chin beneath the mask. She stared at him with confusion that followed his own, her fingers gripping her legs tighter as she shook her head. Riley didn't want to answer that question because the worst things in her mind would be nothing compared the what this nut could think of. She had dealt with the Joker, she had dealt with Freeze and Selina, yet as she looks at this beast she knew that what insanity the others had, this one made up for with sheer delusion. Riley may be Bruce Wayne's daughter, she may be desirable and rich to some capacity, but she was also a creature that this man knew nothing of. He wanted to know what she thought he'd do? She had no idea what she would do herself. Her lips parted as his hand pulled away from her face once more. "I suppose you'll keep me here to tease and torment me. Eventually, after driving me to the point of madness, you'll either tell me whatever it is you want from me or as I suspect take pleasure in what you can take prior to the madness setting in."

Her eyes shined and for a moment the man stilled. He was considering her words carefully before moving to stand again. Her head tilted back to view him better his fingers once more shuffled in their gloves. "You think I mean to violate you?" He asked, this time almost allowing a tiny ounce of disappointment into his tone. Her brow furrowed as she moved slowly, pulling herself up from her tiny little ball she grabbed hold of the bed frame for support. "That's what madmen do, don't they?" She prompted. "You, Freeze, Scarecrow, Riddler, the Joker. You're all Gotham's pests that come here to ruin what little good is left in this city." Her words continued as she allowed her chest to puff in frustration. His stance changed, moving forward to grabbed her by the breast of her collarbone. He shoved her back into the wall directly behind and she stifled a gasp. Her ocean blues swimming with unshed tears she was determined not to give him, she squeezed her eyes shut not wanting to witness the seething hatred that burned in his beneath the folds of leather.

"If you want to compare me to the Joker, I suggest you prepare yourself for something entirely unpleasant. If you want a monster baby, I assure you you'll get one," He hissed before releasing her against the wall with a shove. Her breath sucked in again she coughed at the shocking release. Within a moment he moved away, trailing around the bed before shooting back out of her room. His hand wrapped around the door before slamming it shut. Her body frozen for a long moment before she began to fumble over towards the door. She jerked at the handle, unable to break the lock she slammed her fist into it with a fury. "If you want to scare me, you'll have to do better than that! I was raised in Gotham! I'm not scared of monsters like you! If you think you'll break me you have another thing coming, you jackass!" Her shouting didn't go unnoticed, but with her unaware of the men standing over at the other side of the door watching it shake and rattle. She didn't realise her impact.

The man stared at the door as after a time the furious onslaught quieted. He was sure that she would be difficult but didn't imagine the issues that would arise in his own plan. This had been an easy plan, and yet as it unravelled, he couldn't help but feel himself becoming lost in it. She would be a difficult one to break, but with determination, he could make her see things his way. As he pulled away the gloves from his hands, dropping them on the floor beside the door, he quickly began to work on the tight leather jacket that bound his waist. Layer after layer was removed until the peaking flush of dark hair peeks out beneath the mask. A harden jaw clenched as he heard yet another round of shouting began to echo from Riley's room. This wasn't going to be easy.


	5. Behind the Mask

There was a determination in her gaze as she stared at the door she had been trapped behind. Riley sat docile on the bed waiting for her captor once again to allow a momentary glimpse of freedom. She knew she had been too hasty, and allows herself to boil over. She couldn't afford to lose her cool, and she knew deep down she HAD to hold it together. Her bedclothes were getting annoying as she pulled at the bunching layers of cloth at her ankles. Anything to pull her thoughts away from the obvious, she had to return to reality as she heard a pass in steps by her door. They didn't stop and continued further down the hall to a wing she hadn't explored earlier in the morning. She tried to recall the layout to the left of her room, but instead, was only filled with the memory of glowing lights from the ceiling.

She pulled away from her bed and crouched quietly in front of the door. The lock was an open set up, one key through either side that twisted the tumblers around to free itself. When the sounds of the steps are no longer were heard, she flickered her gaze around the room to see what tool she could find. Back to her feet, she walked around in circles for a moment before noticing the peeling coil of decoration from around the mirror. Her fingers dusting over the edge, it was firmer than she had original anticipated. Her half chewed nails scrapped under the material and slowly peeled it away from the mirror. It was flexible a material, but it was sturdy, like a lock pick. Her lips twitched in satisfaction before pinching the ends to a curved edge. Riley moved back to the door, once again at her knees as she began to slowly work at the lock.

Her right ear pressed to the door, she allowed her breath to become shallow and closed her eyes to concentrate. It was easier to pick a lock with a kit as she had done numerous times. If the lock was electric, she could easier override the system, but a good old fashion jailbreak was better than nothing. She quietly worked at the lock as pin by pin clicked into place. It took all of twenty painstakingly silent minutes for the final sound of release slid the lock around. Her fingers tucking the material into her shirt for further use, her opposite hand took to the door handle and slowly pushed the extruding material down to unlatch the door. It slowly pulled open, her ocean blues peering out before all too hesitantly peeking her head out the door. It was all too silent, and a hush was over the building like that she had awoken to.

For a moment, she was glad of her feet being bare, the sound of shuffling shoes didn't affect her near silent escape. Her hair tumbling around her neck she began her approach to the skylight she had passed under earlier. It was unaltered when she arrived below it, her gaze flickering around trying to formulate some plan to get her up the fifteen-foot span of space and out the very small opening. Riley would admit to being smaller than most girls, but there were certain aspects of her body that she worried about squeezing through. She almost paced as she looked around the hall. There were shelves she could climb, but there was still a span of around eight feet she would have to travel in her four foot eleven form.

She gritted her teeth wondering if she could manage it without the man hearing her. Her training was impeccable, but frankly, she wasn't in fighting shape. Riley imagined there were a few too many pizzas that had passed through to eliminate her perfect acrobatic form. As she muddled through her thoughts there was a stir of noise, quickly scampering back down the hall and into her room. She pulled the door close as ear pressed against the material to better hear. Heavy footsteps shuffled pass not stopping, her teeth chewing at her lip, she sighed as the final steps slipped around the end of the hall. After a few moments, she repeated her previous acts, moving back into the hall before thinking over her plan for a moment longer.

This time, however, the captor was less silent and clearly moving just on the other side of the wall. Her ears perked up, trying to both listen for approach and work out a reasonable solution to her endeavour. It didn't take long for her eyes to notice something she hadn't before, a small pair of gloves laying atop a desk at the end of the hall, with a jacket draped over the chair adjoined. He was unmasked perhaps, she thought to herself. Her raven brow knitted together, and for a moment, her curiosity boiled to the tip of her forethought. Her body moving _before_ she had even decided what to do. She approached the end of the hall hugging the wall so that her shadow would not give her away. As she came to the end, his once again rang out, this time clearer and stronger. She could hear the variation in his tone and the lull of his vocal chords.

Riley could not, however, make out what he was saying despite being only a few meters away. He was speaking in fluent Cantonese, a language that she did not know by heart, and the few words she could make out did not sound promising. There were words that slipped through like coded messages, and she knew that whatever he was talking about involved guns and illegal substances. Her fingers brushed her hair behind her ear as she strained her neck nearly around the wall. The glint of the crystalline windows adjacent to the pair her add to see the man. If she squinted she could see his reflection in the stained glass, just as tall and broad, but this time no longer masked in thick leather material. The mask that had enclosed his entire head now a memory, his tousled dark hair only visible slightly as she noticed it curled at the tips. A part of her wanted to alert him, just to have him turn and finally take a glance at his face.

Her steps cautious as she inched her head around the corner now, the right of her gaze peering around she now saw him without the aid of reflection. He was toned beneath the black shirt and dark-hued jeans that hugged his body. Her brow rose as she couldn't help but find herself amused at the first comment that arose in her mind. His words continuing for a few minutes before he came to a close with his conversation. Fingers wrapped around the wall to steady herself in her awkward snooping position, she didn't notice his gaze settled in a glittering glass covering of a painting. He had a full view of her spying on him as his the phone slipped from his ear. Her eyes widened she ducked back behind the wall and her breath halted immediately. A ruffle of cloth sounded as he tucked his phone away, humming distinctively before his voice now muffled again echoed through the hall.

"Took you longer than I expected to get out, and here I thought you could manage a simple lock," He teased darkly before she sighed against the wall. Riley didn't cower, and as she turned around the corner, she noticed only the mask covering him once again. The protective jacket still behind her in the hall, he remained predominantly exposed. However, as he still hid his face, she couldn't help but find her curiosity peaking further. Her steps small, she pulled the material of her shirt tighter around her as she felt the burn of his gaze. "I was brooding, it takes a while," She responded carefully, her gaze fixed to the mask falling away at the grandeur of the room. He nodded, apparently amused by her comment as his arms crossed over his chest. He stood still, _waiting_ she thought, for her to make some sort of move. "Are you done brooding then?" He followed with before she stepped further down into the living space. "Are you done threatening me?" She clipped back, her arms now crossing over her tinier form.

"You were saying mean things," He retorted almost joying the game of cat and mouse. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around the room once more before she had been in a daze, and now she couldn't help but allow it to sink in. This had to be some sort of abandoned church, it was old and beautiful, but clearly he had put in some effort to making it a modern dwelling. The kitchen itself was proof of that much, she thought before her stomach openly reminded her of that fact. Her cheeks must have flushed slightly before he quietly followed up his previous statement, "I'll make you something to eat." His form turning away before following with an annoyed clip of tone. "Again." She frowned before following him in step, "Look, I don't know if you've been watching too much Beauty and the Beast, or you want a wife or money or what. I can't help you. I don't have anything to give you." Once again defending herself to whatever purpose this man had planned to do to her.

He didn't pause in his actions, moving through the openings into the kitchen and pulling the plate he had prepared from earlier out of a small refrigerator. "If you want to kill me, can't you just get it over with?" She tried again, this time prompting a response which she could only imagine without directly seeing the man's expression as annoyed. "I mean it, I'm not going to play house with you. I've been kidnapped by crazier people who held me in a cage and threatened to deflower me. I'm not Betty Crocker, and frankly, you aren't -" She started before throwing her hands up in frustration. "Have you called my father? Have you made demands about my release?" She kept pushing until he turned back to the girl. "No one knows you're here but the pair of us." He answered carefully, peeling the plastic off the plate before popping it into the small microwave.

"So it is a wife thing? You want some kind of sex slave or," She rambled before he shook his head. " _STOP_ , saying that." He clipped before tapping his bare hands against the countertop. Her brow knitted again and she glared openly at him. "You. Kidnapped. Me!" She hissed. "You have kept me locked up, thrown me into walls, touched me inappropriately, and frankly scared the crap out of me!" Her chest puffing out before his fingers flexed against the counter. "Riley," He started before noticing her turning around the kitchen and pulling the first sharp object she could find into her hand. Her black locks falling around her features, she raised it in front of her looking like she was about the boil over. "Let. Me. Go," She growled, announcing each syllable like they were a declaration of war. He lifted his hands from the table, ignoring the now beeping machine to his side and crossed out from around the table. "What are you going to do? Stab me?" He asked before noticing her backing up in his approach.

"You have no idea who you're messing with dude," She snapped back in a furious defence. He let his hands fall then, approaching her still without much hesitation. "I have a very good idea who and what you are. I know exactly why you ended up a long way from home. I want to help you," He explained carefully before the shining look of confusion flashed over her expression. "You want to help me?" She asked blind-sighted, the word help falling from her lips like it didn't quite fit into her mouth. "Well, when Bruce Wayne's daughter is nearly charged with attempted murder...it gets around," He explained before she stilled in her stance. The knives position wavered just enough for him to close the space between the two and snatch it out of her hand.

Her thoughts broke as she shoved her arm sharply into his gut, slamming with all the force she could muster before flying past him. He didn't know _what_ he was talking about, how could he know about the trail? How did he know what happened to her in Gotham? Surely after all Bruce's work, the records would have been sealed and no one should have known. She stumbled into the living space and headed straight for her escape. There was no waiting left to be done, this man was insane and she refused to tolerate it for a moment longer. Her feet kicking off the floor as she rounded the corner into the hall, fingers grabbed at the edge of the bookcase to pull herself up. Boots hit the floor behind her as she quickly slid herself higher and higher onto the furniture. Once she reached the top, she could see the window within reach, only to hear a shuffle below her.

His masked form below, she felt the tips of his fingers brushing against her bare feet as he stretched to try and grab her seven feet into the atop the shelves. The bookcase wavered when he pulled at the edge trying to reach her. "No!" She kicked out at him, trying to knock him back as she strained to grab the windows latch several feet above her. If she jumped out, she would have to grab it the first time. Her toes pressed to the tip, she reached trying to grab it before feeling a hand clamped around her ankle. She shuffled, shouting before desperately reaching before another hand was felt clutching the back of her opposite leg. There was a rough jerk before she fell off the edge into him. They were heavy as they hit the floor, his hand slipping around her head to prevent it from slamming into the hard surface. She struggled immediately, shoving and kicking at him. His grip tight as he pushed her onto the floor and pinning her down. "Don't touch me!" She cried out, her muscles contracting as she tried to use all of her brute forced to get him _off_ of her.

"Tell me why you went after the Joker. Tell me why a little heiress who lives in a palace, would ever have the desire to strangle a nut case," He growled down at her, her face twisting to the side as genuine tears pooled in her eyes. She fought back, but he was stronger than she was. Riley was honestly terrified of this man. Terrified of his advantage over her, terrified that he knew way too much. Her face contorted in agony as she shook her head. His hand finding hers before she could even use it to her advantage, snapping up both her wrists and pinning them above her head. His other hand grabbing her by the jaw and forcing her gaze back to the mask.

She choked on her own sob before foolishly kicking from under him. "Stop it! Let me go!" She hoarsely replied trying to muffle the onslaught of emotions that overtook her. All the agony, all the fear, it flooded her like a volcanic eruption. This is WHY she left Gotham. This is why she couldn't be around the boys. A flip of a switch and all the reminders that sent her into overdrive conquered every rational thought she had. The memory of her fingers wrapped around the white chalky throat. All she could remember was the rage, and the contentment that she would have killed another person.

He pressed down harder, his rough hands squeezing the contours of her expression before hissing back at her. "Look at me, Riley," He beckoned, her chest heaving as she refused to give in. "I want you to open your eyes and look at me. Why did you go after the Joker? Why did you try to kill him?" He prompted again as finally her darkened gaze split and she was forced to look up at the masked man in utter defeat. Why did she do it? Why did she fall so hard from the spot of glory? Riley was beloved by the entire city of Gotham. She was in the pocket of every esteemed office and school. She was Bruce Wayne's brilliant daughter, and now she was a _lunatic_. She winced beneath his weight before coughing out her response, "He took everything from me. He deserved to die." Her voice so weak and broken, the tears that muddied her face only proof of the agony that twisted in her gut.

Riley had almost ended up in Arkham after what she did, her mind lost for what seemed like months until the arrival of Tim. Bruce had nearly lost two children in the span of a few months and everyone knew it. When Riley went after the Joker it had been five years since Jason's death. Never had she had to face him in the entirety of the time face to face, and when it happened she couldn't stop the internal reaction that exploded within her. It was like a thin piece of a string that was pulled too taut. When the cackling laugh sprung to live in her presence all she could do was attack with brutal force.

Once it was all said and done with, and the last itching hysteric the monster was breathing came to its final end, only then did Bruce pull her away. He allowed her to get so close only to rob her of her victory at the end. That was why she had to go, that was why she left Gotham. Riley couldn't be left complete if she was forced to live with the life-shattering reality that she had failed her most precious love. Riley had blamed herself, and in that blame, lost all notion of reality. His grip didn't waver on her wrists, but it did relax against her jaw. Her eyes fixed on the mask in a trembling panic she watched him mewl over the words she had uttered.

"What did he take from you?" He posed quietly, almost intimately before she found him once again brushing against her face like a master petting a purring kitten. "My brother," She whispered in response, her eyes shining before her fight all but drained out of her. Her head lulled back into the floor as she quit trying. The man didn't respond, his grip not wavering before he watched the woman slowly reduce her pride into a blubbering stillness. "So you intended to murder him to seek vengeance," He concluded after hearing her, almost trying to string together a story he didn't quite know the ending to.

She didn't answer for a moment, secluded in the depths of her tortured mind before shaking her head. " _Maybe_ , or maybe I just didn't care why," She relented before he finally pulled away. Moving back onto his knees before his hold changed to rest softly on her shoulders trying to ease her into a sitting position. She stared at him like she was frozen at her honesty and suddenly regretting it all. Her stomach twisted as her head bowed in shame, her eyes squeezing shut, she noticed only the feeling of his hand once again at her face. He hovered closer to her before she felt his head touch against the top of hers. Almost like a kiss but muddled by the mask that held it apart.

Riley shivered, her exhaustion pulling before she finally decided to kill the agony in her gut. He slowly moved away, standing to pull her up in turn. She was moving before he even realised her actions. Small hands shoving him sharply into the wall behind them and tearing at the material around his face. Her knees scratching into the sides of his flesh before she managed to pull it half way off. His arms were quick to entangle her, twisting her around and trying to pull her off of him. She was unrelenting easing it off in the struggle until it stuck at the roots of his scalp. He hissed before she finally released him, his struggling force slamming her back into the wall. Her large oceans blues drank everything in for the momentary glance, and she felt overwhelmed at the expression glossed over his face. Scars ran over his cheek only millimetres from his eyes and the hues of purple and green that covered the darker flesh around his expression. At last true eyes met and the warm pool of brown heated her cheeks. She looked at him, absorbing every second as he stared into her eyes dejectedly. "Riley," He whispered almost too soft to hear as she sucked in a deafening breath.


	6. Memories

**Seven Years Ago:**

His eyes were swollen and he felt in his gut an unending desire to curl up into the nearest bed and sleep away the foreseeable future. Was it always going to be this bad? Did he always _need_ to lose? Jason didn't understand what he gained anything from the repetitive humiliation that he associated with his nightly training. If Bruce wanted him to be a good at what he did, if he wanted to be anything close to what the previous Robin had been, he had to learn to accept a loss of control. He ran his fingers through his short stubs of dark hair and slouched over the edge of the couch in the back wing of the manor.

He shared this wing with his sister, who at this time was out doing god knows what with god knows who. Jason didn't mind that his sister was trying to have a civilian life, after all, she had given to the world she desired with some sense of normalcy. Despite Bruce's obvious disdain for Riley being out with the Gotham's elite; she was a charmer, and she was racking up a favour with every big name in the city. However, this night he knew differently, this night she was with someone he didn't care for. When Riley had started dating the red-headed clown, Jason had called them ridiculous. Why would she give everything about the life up to be with someone IN the life?

Jason didn't try and make sense of it anymore, and as he slowly pulled himself from the couch after resting for a few minutes, he made his way through the halls of the manor and to his room. Before passing his room, he saw his sister's down at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he was flooded with a strange discomfort. He approached the room silently, his fingers quickly making work of the gloves that he used during training and tucking them into his pocket. No noise echoed in the room and when he did approach he saw no reflections or shadows in the darkness.

His brows furrowed as he pushed the door open, glancing around as he saw finally the bathroom within the enclosure to open slowly. Riley emerged from the bathroom in a long silk robe, her feet bare as she trotted around the bed and quickly making work to tie the bounties of hair to the top of her head. She was damp, and he could tell that she was frustrated. Her young express crinkled in a process he had attributed to Bruce as well as Riley. He didn't say anything for the longest moment, worried that he may disrupt something that didn't belong to him. It didn't take long, however, for the trained heiress to notice him standing awkwardly on the other side of the door.

"I hope he looked worse than you," She murmured softly with her back turned to the door. Riley moved fluidly and pulled the large bag from the floor that was conjoined to her hip through a majority of her school day. Jason scoffed before moving into the room with less rigidness. He folded his arms over his chest as he leant in her now open doorway. Her brow crinkled in amusement before watching him try and formulate some sort of answer, "He was too loose. I was following perfect form like you taught me. He was the one pulling out all these stunts." His dark gaze looked straight past her to the paintings she hung within her room. Riley always like art, books and art were a weakness of hers

Riley paused in her packing for tomorrow's long day of exams before turning over to look at him. Jason was a good kid, and he was every bit as stubborn as she had been. When Riley announced that she wouldn't be the Robin anymore, Bruce had found Jason. He brought him into a home that was cold and dark. While there was warmth beneath the sheets of a bed he nearly regularly had, he didn't often find sanctuary after a long day of battle. She had spent so long juggling normality and heroism. Now she was free to live a singular life and give Jason her own wings. It wasn't easier for Jason to move from street rat to filling the shoes of the first sidekick in modern day heroism.

Robin was a known to all make and matter. The Robin was a genius and clever, quick on their feet and a force not worth messing with for any villain around. Kid or not, Riley had never let it waver her steps as she bound roof to roof over the dark streets. With those days in the past, Jason was slowly realising how much he really did idealise this girl. She was a rogue fighter, and she didn't often heed others rule. The entire league had to deal with her just the way she was...well for the most part. Bruce's constant changing of her physical nature was damaging to an extent, driving for a majority the reason Riley couldn't be the Boy Wonder anymore.

Riley was Riley, she was a beautiful person, and in the eyes of that fourteen-year-old, she was everything he wanted to be. "Bruce's job is to make you prepared, and one thing you have to realise is villains don't abide by my training. They will surprise you, every time," Her words were softer as she climbed into her bed, crossing her legs in her lap before pulling a pillow atop it. Her damp hair stuck to the side of her face as it slowly inched out of the messy updo she had thrown it into. Jason mewled over his own thought before entering the room and closing the door behind himself. His sister's brow rose before she reclined her head to the side curiously.  
"You okay?" She asked, knowing that in reality he wasn't, but didn't often _admit_ to it.

He hovered in the awkward space between her door and her bed, almost hesitant to take that final breach of space between eventually deciding the hell with it. He untwisted his arm guard and tossed it on the floor beside her bed, following with the kicking off his shoes and crawled on the bed beside her. Jason hated that he was left to cuddle into his sister, but at the same time, there was nowhere else he felt safest. "Where's your boyfriend?" He asked quietly before Riley paused in her actions, her fingers caught in the strands of her falling locks. Her eyes turned away from him, the soft blues that hummed a shining light seemed clouded in those words. "He's at home, he had work tonight," She answered him honestly, but to some extent not revealing the entirety of her thoughts.

"Are you fighting?" Jason followed again, his fingers digging into the straps of his leg padding as he occasionally flickered his gaze back up to her. She chuckled softly, her lips pursing before turning to face him, her long fingers making quick work at the laces of his opposite padding and began her own interrogation. "Why are you mad at Tati? You know at the end of the day he's only trying to make you a stronger hero. I thought this is what you wanted?" She continued, tossing the disregarded material onto the ground once she had slipped it off. The younger huffed back at her before running his fingers again through his messy hair. "He keeps pushing and pushing, I know what to do! I don't need him to coddle me and bark orders at me," Jason continued before frustratedly chewing on his bottom lip.

"He cares deeply for you Jason, you're his son," Riley assured him, sliding over next to him in the bed before wrapping her arm around his back. Her head leant a top his shoulder momentarily and he squirmed against her before flopping back onto her mattress. Her brow rose as he growled under his breath in frustration. "I don't want to be his son. I want to be Robin," Jason retorted back causing Riley paused. "Why do you want to be Robin?" She prompted carefully as if trying to dissect the boy's real conflict. He didn't answer for a moment, weeding through his thoughts, she imagined before he turned to his side to look at her. "You were Robin," He replied before staring blankly at her. She scoffed lightly before reclining back in the bedding next to him, curling on her side as she turned to face him. "I was a cross-dressing circus act. You are a hero," She corrected him, reaching her hand up to clasp his chin. "Don't doubt yourself Jason, and don't compare yourself to me."

He didn't jerk out of her hold this time, his gaze fixed on hers trying to figure out where his sister was coming from. He wanted so bad to make sense of it all, and figure out just why he couldn't be her. Why did she not see how important she was? How did she not realise the reason he wanted to be Robin was to work with her? Now that Riley wasn't here, now that she wasn't at his side, the reality fell immensely short of his dream. "It's kind of hard not to compare yourself to the best," He muttered darkly before she gave him a pointed look. "You don't have to prove yourself to Bruce, and you don't have to prove yourself to Gotham," She added quietly, her eyes hiding something almost secretly exposing. He wondered what was bothering her off-handed before she moved yet again even closer to him. Her arm stretched around him as she buried her face into his hair.

"And Jason," She whispered. "You don't have to prove yourself to me. You know I'm here for you, always. I'll always have your back, you'll always be my partner." Her words soft and bathed in warmth, his frustration slighted as all the stubborn tendencies melted into his sister's arms. Jason didn't have it in him to admit he needed to feel wanted, he didn't want to admit he needed to feel safe. Jason was always worried about being like her, that he never stopped to think about how much she wanted him the exact way he was. Bruce could do everything in his power to change him, but the one thing he would hold onto he learned from her. It wasn't wrong to be who he was, he just had to fight for it. He had to be himself, even if no one else wanted him to be.

 **Present:**

A tight grip buried into her waist as her heaving breaths sent shivers down his spine. The wide blue orbs that stared him down were intimidated and fearful, and without much thought, she felt the indistinguishable desire to run away. The material bunched at his hairline, and his trembling stance almost faltered when she finally closed her eyes and broke the intoxicating stare. Her brow winced and suddenly the rush of blood that flooded her system made her sick to her stomach. He had tackled her hard, and she didn't realise it until afterwards. His grip at her sides wavered and suddenly there was a real concerned for her health. He discarded the mask, obviously not caring about it at the moment, he moved to cradle her face as she winced again.

"Breathe," He assured her for the third time since she arrived, and for a moment, _she did_. Her lips parted in a breath, thoughtlessly exhaling before the blackness sucked her in. Riley went limp in his arms and he couldn't help but swoop her up without a second thought. Carefully he moved back through the building, tucking her close to his frame, as he navigated back to her room and laid her carefully into the blankets. He rounded the bed once again, gently adjusting her so she sat half way up. Her brow furrowed in her unconsciousness, and he hoped that she had just merely fainted. What was he going to do now? How was he going to explain? There were so many thoughts and feelings that shot through his system, and he didn't know what they meant. How could he explain his actions to her when he couldn't explain them to himself? The vague reminders that flooded his system when she touched him, the ghostlike memories of a home he no longer knew. Life was a shadow in his gaze, and now he was holding onto the only thing that had helped him remember.

Her black curls fell around her face, and he couldn't help but sweep them behind her ears so that the soft pale flesh was exposed. Two days he had had her there. Two days he had kept her safe, and yet felt nowhere near close enough to understand _WHY_ it mattered. Why did Riley Grayson matter? Surely in the back of his mind, it was logical enough, surely the idea of this beautiful heiress of Gotham would amuse the man in his quest for vengeance. However, after nearly six months of fresh North American soil under his feet, the sole thing he had really done was find her. After returning from Nanda Parbat, he had caught wind of a story floating through the underground and became fixated with the rumour that Gotham's princess went missing due to being charged with attempted murder.

Only a few tongues breathed the tale, and not one really believed it to be true but himself. He knew it to be true in the back of his mind. He didn't have a reason, just a feeling that that black haired beauty did it justly. As the months dragged on, he worked his way around the system until he had discovered where she was living. Slowly he put the pieces together of who she was and _why_ she mattered. It was an emotional connection, and it was a logical one. He knew his name, and he knew hers. It wasn't until the memories began to flood into his system that the convergence on her was understood. She was a piece of light in the darkness that his humanity had known long before this resurgence.

When he took her, he had spent a majority of that week watching her closely. Every step she took, every book she read, all of it was categorised into his mind like a mechanism trying to wrangle out some meaningful response to her existence. The day he entered her apartment, it had been in her lull of sleep between endless consumption of television. He hid, tucked away in the back of her darkened apartment unnoticed by the woman, as she spent a majority of her day tucked under blankets and jumpers. He hadn't been sure of what he was going to do then until of course the report on the tv sent everything into motion. The words that fell from her lips, the tears that hung in her gaze, as she spoke to that boy on the phone he had an ache in his soul. Those words were not his, those words were not meant for that child on the phone.

He waited until its conclusion, her retreat back into her bedroom before putting his plan into action. When he took her, he expected a fight, but after time he found his result one of ease. Her arrival at his home had not been planned, however, the triggering of a much deeper rage that flourished within him. He wanted to see what she would do when confronted with her past. He wanted to see what she would do when faced with the possibility of her successful murder of the Joker. When she wailed and cried, he found himself disappointed and questioning the entirety of his desired outcome. What DID he want from her? What did he _need_ from her? All these questions that after a day would pour from her own lips? He wanted so much, needed so much, and as she whispered her agony, all he could do was glare at her from under the mask.

He knew who he was to her, and yet under all his fog, he could remember needing her at a level so deep he couldn't stand her to go. As he stared down onto the bed, he watched her chest rise and fall in a passive ache. Her mind appeared to be reeling, as the dreams that she suffered, were as unending as his own. Riley's face scrunched up, dark brow furrowed and all he could think was how much he enjoyed her expression like that. The memory of her damp locks hugging her pale throat, the look of confusion plastered over her face. He remembered her being so beautiful, so endearing, and now as he stared down at the ghost of his past he knew all those thoughts to be real.

How could he make her understand that his actions were in that of a mad man trying to regain his own sanity? He was honest when he said he wanted to help her, he wanted to help her understand that he was there to take care of her. After everything she had been through, after losing so much from her life, he wanted to make up for every moment. His inner thoughts and feelings were nearly unnoticeable to the eye, his entire inner monologue expressed in nothing but the reflection of warm brown eyes against pale flesh. His fingers brushed against her cheek before sighing to himself. Why did she have to do this? Why did she had to be so, _Riley_? He began to pull himself out of his endless train of thought, once realising that she would not stir, he was faced with the idea of leaving her in this room to awake alone and stumble out that door.

He was tired of that game, more interested in the part that came after, and yet was no more prepared for it than before. It was determined that he would stay, sliding down the back wall of the bedroom next to the bed he watched her a guilty turmoil. When she arose from her grief-stricken lapse, how would she react? Would she flee? Would she stay and confront him? The answers he had spent days preparing were now not worth using, and as he sat there watching, he could only formulate so little response to anything she may say. All he wanted was for her to wake up, and all he needed was Riley to be there with him.


	7. Update! Please Read (Not a discontinue!)

-rolls up on a big wheels with a starbucks and a hankering to get this party started-

HELLO FRIENDS.

It is I, the person who starts a story, then inevitably runs off to Tumblr and forgets. I apologise for this and will accept any punishment you deem necessary.

BUT...the main reason I'm updating this is to let you know that I will be starting back on this story, slowly over the next few days I'm going to be combing through previous chapters and giving them an overhaul editing wise ( a year later it's clear to see my 2am university writing needs some grammatical aiding ) and start posting NEW CHAPTERS.

YES. NEW.

Believe it or not, I had/have a plan for where this story will go and I was only getting started when it came to the shadow reveal in chapter 5. For those who commented/messaged, haha! You are correct, however, this story isn't going to be the simplest familial bliss that some other bat!fam stories get. I have a goal in mind that doesn't exactly spell out happily ever after (BUT SPOILERS).

So to tide you over until the overhaul is done, I'm going to give you a few hints about what to expect in the next couple of chapters. By answering a few questions I've gotten about the story over the platforms its posted ( , AO3, tumblr, etc), hopefully, this helps until I can get the ball rolling!

 **boyfriend? SOMEONE WE KNOW?** Ahahahahahahah...yes. If you've read any of my previous work, it may be pretty easy to put together ;D

 **do the fam know Riley is missing?** no. they don't. however, that doesn't mean we won't be seeing them very very soon!

 **is there something like, mentally wrong here?** well. i don't know how you relationship with your siblings are - but, I mean -vaguely shrugs in feigned answering-

 **WHEN ARE YOU GONNA UPDATE? PLS PLS PLZZZZ?** SOON! Probably in the next week or so.

DID THAT HELP? No? Darn. Oh well, I'm grateful for those that have stuck around as this is probably my favorite story out of all I've ever written. I have quite a few different plans for this story, and perhaps for my Nightwing Stuck in Starling ( which I haven't at this time decided to reboot, but if you like that too let me know! maybe I'll consider it).

Talk to you guys soon3


	8. Disillusions of the Heart

Her chest was on fire. An ache that was both physical and mental, and yet, she felt no desire to extinguish the flames as her face contorts in the maddening disillusion of her dreams. However, sleep could not hold her for much longer, and no sooner did time begin its horrific crawl through day did blue eyes reopen into the pillow. Somehow she had turned towards the door, arm tucked behind her head as legs curled upwards to her smaller frame. Whether nightmares had brought her to such discomforts or not, it was clear that the stirring was caused by an unhappy stickiness in her throat. She rattled in a cough, chest lurching as she pushed upwards on her hand to try and uncrinkle whatever seemed folded within. The stale water that had been left at the bedside from earlier was quickly handed to her, and without much thought, she took three heavy gulps of it as an eager hand settled upon her back to sit her up straight.

At first, she did not realise that the benevolent force in the room was anything other than a haze of ancient imagination, like a sick child being pampered and pruned, the ability to simply follow instructions such as drinking the water were nonsensical. However, after a few moments the harsh sting of quickly consumed water passed through her throat she found herself a bit more focused. The strands of ragged and tangled dark hair were pushed behind her ear as squinted gazed turned to notice the dark eyes trained on her face. It was like a fog had passed over her, and there he stood anxious and unclear of her own position. Fingers released the glass willingly as he set it back on the table, and yet, confusion spread rapidly over her features instead. The immediate concern was the overwhelming discoloration and scarring of the young man's face. The scar that ran across his features was traced with her eyesight down to the frown upon his lips.

She blinked slowly, chest rising in an exhale before she pulled away from the side of the bed they seemed joined upon. " _No_ ," Riley wheezed, kicking away the loosely draped blankets and trying to create distance between the two. This was NOT possible. While grim did the features appear, she knew that face better than any on Earth. The heavy brows too wild for any unbecoming but him. Eyes that were sharp and keen, but fell too sweetly upon her own. A mouth that was thin that seemed able to articulate any manner of discomfort and yet was far too pleasant for her liking. This was a dream. This was a trick. **_No_** , she thought. No, this is just cruel. Her actions were, however, expected, and without delay, two large hands clasped around her waist to pull her back onto the bedding. A weak cry hiccuped in her throat as so quickly did her thoughts derail to the very worst of assumptions. The madness of the acutest variety had begun to sink in, and now, she pictured that beloved face atop a monster's that had treated her so cruelly.

"You're not going anywhere, _please stop_ ," He sighed, and immediately she could detect a level of exhaustion in his voice. For a moment, she struggled, a hyperventilation quickly surfacing as she couldn't bear to have hands forcing her into a bed again. "Please," She begged, tears welling into her eyes. " _Please_." There were no requests to come but the struggle to let her go, to not chain her to the bed and force her to withstand this punishment. Had Bruce's therapists not done worse? Had forcing her to try and relive torturous emotions not typical in such practices? There was a slight compliance to her words, a more gentle hand, instead of forcing her, guided her back to sitting on the bedding. There was no glory to this, no beauty or even understanding to be had. It was feebleness. It was devastation. He had not expected this, nor had he suspected that the rumours he had read on her files were anywhere close to the truth. Surely Bruce hadn't done this to her himself? Surely after everything she'd been through, Bruce would not subject her to confinements of any kind?

He finally did the only thing he could think to do, promptly slipping behind her in the bedding he pulled the smaller woman back onto his chest. Her back pressing against him as one arm looped around her waist and the other gently tucked her hands into his own. His lips pressed into her hair, eyes squeezing shut as the short but silent moments of struggle appeared to be agonising. Her whimpering, her crying, her helplessness. It was like a knife through the heart, to see someone so powerful fall into a state of disarray. There was a need to make those responsible suffer, a desire to right the wrongs committed not only to himself but to her. What had their father done after he had died but allow the monster who destroyed him to go unpunished? _His sister_ , however, had little desire to see the ends not be meet, and what pride he felt at her devotion. Riley had tried to avenge his death. Riley had tried to end the monster that had done so much damage.

He was grateful to her, he was beyond proud of all she had done to protect him. Her love, by far, was proven tenfold, while Bruce's lingered upon the edge of civility and formality. While Riley lost everything she had EVER loved, Bruce found new sons to take his place. While Riley was injured and in trouble from her suffering, he sent her away from those closest who might manage to do her well. The new boys he could not blame, at the very least, he could not _hate_ them for their part. Bruce's obvious tactic was to distract her, to pull her away from the path of justice she wished to pursue, and instead, force her to remould herself into a mother figure she had been before, and it did not work. It, maybe, delayed years of a spiral that seemed to toss her tragically from its precipice. Out into the darkness. Out alone in the cruelty of the world.

It took some time, gentle caresses of his thumb along her hands and lips pressed into the mess of hair until soft breaths adjoined his own in an illusion of peace. Her legs once scrunched up in distress relaxed as only her own grip upon his wrist seemed to remain fighting. It was a sign he was willing to bet on and took care to approach the situation slowly to avoid further distress. "It's okay Ri, _I've got you_. You're safe. I've got you," He whispered against the shell of her ear, his heavy voice intentionally good meaning despite the fear that surfaced in her heart. Her head shook, shifting in his hold as the loose arm around her waist pulled her tighter back in hopes of reassurance. "You're _NOT_ -" She choked, her head shaking as her skin seemed to crawl with the chill and agony. The fingers pressed lightly into flesh, the scarred hands that were rough against her own drew grief from her heart. "I am, _I am_ , I'm so sorry," He remorses in return, realising finally that he would be reopening these wounds that she worked so hard to close. His actions over the past few days were that of the manic desire of control, of assurance that once centred she could not dare to part from him. This grief. This agony his heart had never dared to know - this was _quite_ different.

Her head falls back, surrendering in some ways to the waves of tears that threatened to consume her. She did not feel the rage anymore. She did not feel the panic that pushed her to act so rashly before. Now she felt regrets, now she was flooded with an utter _defeat_ that is far more consuming than the previous. He leant forward slightly, gathering her up so that he could look down upon her features that seemed pale. For a moment he considered releasing her, a frail hope that she had settled enough to listen to his words without falling into the same hysterical monsoon. Yet as blue eyes turned upwards to look at his own, she shudders with what he could only make out as fear, a feeling he did not associate with her. An emotion he was not capable of digesting right away. Instead, his hands disregarded her own moving impart to brush the savage hair from her face in motions that seemed reversed from his memories. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to frighten you. I just - _You were so alone_. **I** was so alone. That's not how it's supposed to be, _right_?" It's a logical phrase from lips that sound almost pleading, like a child trying to coax a parent from the verge of insanity. A helpless plea, a meaningful one for one who could not stomach what he was doing.

She, however, during this time can not help but find his touch like sandpaper. His voice intimately flush against her flesh, and her heart racing so nakedly before him. Teeth slid over chapped lips, her shirt now crumpled under his arm twisting tightly around her neck and rubbing at the skin. How could such normalcy be pretended when she felt so caged? How could such illusions be approached when she was victim to this predator? It was all too much, all too confusing to be made sense of in this manner. Total submission would land her back against that wall, her throat still remembering the hand so violently pressed against her collar. The harsh words, the feverous _desires_ so easily boasted this was a lie - **_it had to be._**

"Please let me go," Riley begged, her voice edging along some attempt at control and finding much difficulty in its passing. Her words were met with a frustrated sigh, and another adjustment that made her feel further and further like that of a ragdoll. His hands shifted from around her waist fittingly to her hips, this time he sat fully up while his other hand now balanced the pair perfectly in the bed, "You need to promise me, you can remain calm and let me explain." The words were further away from the beginning gentility, now followed the path back to the bargaining in the kitchen. He wanted to help her, he had said. He wanted to protect her. He said she was safe. Yet Riley felt anything but safe, Riley felt more vulnerable there than anywhere in the world. This wasn't her- _**god**_ , the thought couldn't even pass through her mind. "Swear to me, Riley," He urged again, this time allowing her to stray from against his chest and acclimate some measure of space. "I swear," She breathed faintly, her heart thudding against her ribs as she felt the tight hold begin to loosen from her waist. He seemed to take her for her word, relaxing his grip but not removing her from the awkward position in his lap.

There was a stillness momentarily, a moment where his hands slipped back to brace himself - and she was left to her own devices. At first, she merely leant forward, quickly untwisting the material of her shirt to straighten it out and then glancing about the room to try and decipher her next steps. Surely, there was a way to get out of this, surely there was a way to...her thoughts were lost as a hand was found again approaching her personal space, this time gently taking her arm as if hoping to direct her gaze back. It shattered the momentary peace, she wrung her arm hastily out of his grasp and lurched forward to scamper off the bed and several paces away. Eyes went round, and while he did pull himself to the end of the bed - instead of force, offered an outstretched hand of pause, " _Hey_ , come on. Look at me, look at ME, Riley. Just listen, okay? All you have to do is listen." Blue eyes found darker cerulean, her chest puffing out once more as she finally for the first time had distance enough to stare him down.

"I must be back in that place, I must be losing my mind," She declared, her eyes dropping if but to gaze upon her own hands now flushed pink from his previous grip. Her feet still bare as she rocked against textured flooring trying to figure out where it had all went wrong. These words seemed to trouble him most, causing the larger man to drop his legs over the end of the bed and shake his head slowly. "No, you won't be going back to that place, I wouldn't let him do that to you," His words counted distinctly, a furrow of brow revealing even he wasn't quite sure where this conversation was heading. There _had_ been a point, a reasoning he had worked out over the several days, and now recalculated hours in that room. He was going to talk to her about his escape, about his recovery, about his need of finding her. How lost he had been when returning to the States, and how joyful, even if he couldn't particularly emote it, he felt holding her in his arms. It was a paradox, an oddity he didn't quite understand but relished in it immensely. To hold her, instead of the other way around, it seemed right. It seemed okay.

Yet those words did not settle her, rather she took a more confident step towards him, eyes raising to meet his own, "This is impossible. I saw you. I touched you. _I held you_." Each word articulated with an overwhelming ounce of clarity, and assurity that the doctrine of sanity so forced upon her over the five years of separation, had emerged. "I will not allow these delusions to ruin everything I've worked on. I will not fall back into that trap of darkness and defeat. I conquered it. I conquered you." Such grief, such pain, and yet, needing above all else for these things to be true. The struggles she had endured after his death, after losing what was so pure and good, she could not return to them and survive again. Her head shook as if trying to dismiss the cloud that so readily wished to take her once more, her brow now furrowing in tension. "I want to go home." Her steps were small, but somehow her body led back to the edge of the bed, staring down at him like he was a beacon amongst the fog. "I want to be with my brothers, I want to see my father. Please, _please_ ," A tinier voice emerging amongst the tears, and for the first time in years, he faltered his own gaze instead.

"I could never refuse you," He admitted quietly, his fingers curling as if trying to repress the immediate need to reach out and touch her. A physical connection so missed over the years, an anchor that he tragically had been robbed of for so long. That was what his sister meant to him, that was why he needed her so desperately. _Cruel_ , perhaps, were his methods, but it was in the interest of testing her faith. It was in the interest of testing the reality of what was left behind. If the stories had been true, if SHE had been true, and furthermore if the woman - who had once been a girl - was that of the sweet melodies that lulled him into rest. Years in darkness, years of pain and confusion, his mind was awash with what was and what wasn't, and _there_ she had been. His sister. His friend. His partner. He could not hold her here if she truly wanted to leave. To force her back into that bed, by any means, would be lost to him. Instead, his head hung forward, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, her gentle hand rose to card through the short brown hair.

It was jarring at first, he froze in front of her like an animal caught between a wall and capture. " _ **Jason**_ ," She murmured, her voice seemingly detached from her body yet overwhelmingly pure to memory. His heartfelt in raptures, and without much thought his arms snaked around her waist to pull her close again, burying his face into the crook of her neck. The sound of his name finally departing from her lips, whether out of pure clarity of mind or not - sent shivers down his spine. " ** _Yes_** ," He croaked, his voice muffled by the crinkled PJ shirt she still adorned. "It's me." The affirmation near begging her, trying to establish a root at her feet to not abandon him once more. He wanted her to stay, he wanted her to see that he had come home to her. He had built them a home, a life, a future; and no matter how dark it could be, he would be there to protect her as she had protected him. It didn't matter how many times he had to suffer through the fogs, it didn't matter how many burnt bridges they would have to fix going forward, he would do anything for her - be anything for her.

Alas, it was lost to her, now frozen in front of him slowly sobering to the idea that lay ahead. There was no distinguishing reality from falsehood now, and whether she had truly fallen into Wonderland or not - this could _not_ continue. Her heart ached, for his voice made goosebumps rise to her flesh. So low, so hollow, it could melt through years of armour she had built. The hand that had brushed through the shorter locks of hair now cupped behind his head, lifting the broken gaze back to her own as tears had finally shimmered once more. _Her beautiful Jason_ , and there stood a creature marred in his likeness. Thumb brushed against his cheek, brow crinkling in distressed as the sight was far more than she could bear. No, she thought, this isn't - _**this couldn't**_. Eyes fluttered shut at her touch, and he for a moment, became that same little boy that clung to her side every terrible night. The same little boy she would sing lullabies too, the same little boy that had stolen her heart. But, that little boy was gone, he had perished so cruelly - and now there was another set of boys she had to protect.

" _I'm sorry_ ," She broke, her voice thick with emotions as she pulled away from him again, pushing past the bed and strutted out into the halls. Riley didn't know where she was going, and really, she had little idea where she was, to begin with. Yet that didn't stop her from making her way out into the living space and over to the long darkened hallway opposite the kitchen. Quickly she pushed open the heavy armour, barefoot running back through the cast iron walkway until she came upon the familiar dark room where the animatronic Joker lay crumpled on the floor. Her eyes found it again, this time regarding it with a quickening sense of distress before pushing past and to the opposite side where a hanger door was located. Riley waited for the heavy footsteps to re-echo through the halls, she waited for the familiar harsh grip on her arm and the barking and hissing in her ear, but _nothing_ came. Instead, she found herself running out into an open field that quickly turned into a wheat covered hillside. She ran until the complex was out of her sight, and she ran until she could not longer bear the burning ache that threatened to overwhelm her entire body. Until that broken face was lost amongst the threatening rain and sinking dread that follows.

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So happy to be back, will try and update as often as I can! Reviews and such always help to keep me motivated though ;D Obviously, this wouldn't go over well the first time, and with Riley far sicker than Jason realises [ OOPS DID I FINALLY SAY IT ALOUD? x)? ], what will happen? Stay tuned for next chapter, which will include BATFAM!


	9. The Beginning of Devastation

_**Flashback - 5 years prior**_

Happiness seemed to be a figment of the imagination. Something that was made up by prose and poetry, and exacerbated by Hollywood after some time. There were no such things as happily ever afters, and Riley realised, now more than ever, that prince charmings never existed. The one glimmer of freedom after ages of lies and chains was slowly becoming the greatest wound she could bear. Couples wasn't a new concept, nor was it something anyone didn't expect having such gruesome employment. Superheroes bore more agonies than many knew. While they fight for the betterment of their communities, often they lose a stability that civilians too often take for granted.

That was the hardship Riley bore, and now she was beginning to realise that what had gotten her through the worst of her transformation now would be the downfall of her new life. When she had revealed her identity to Wally, she had done so after years of close friendship. He was her confidant when things seemed the most blue, and despite the initials frustrations that were born from the lies she purposefully adhered to, Wally _never_ rejected her. He understood that her identity, both in name and gender, were hidden by her father in hopes of never connecting the two. It was to keep her identity safe, and often at times, she thought to keep HIS empire secure.

So thereafter he too bore her secret, and the intimacy of that trust follow through as children turned to teenagers. She wasn't sure when she fell in love with him, perhaps she had always been, but the passion that ensued was aligned with the dramaticism of their lives. The danger that came with heroism, the constant need of assurances when masks hide more than wandering eyes and crude smiles. It was too much to take, and thus, Riley decided to pass on her legacy in favour of a normal life. She craved the normalcy of a public education, of pursuing a normal job where she might find comforts in returning home every day to peace and tranquillity. While she thought her yearning understood, often she would find friction between them.

When Riley left the team, and Jason took her place, a new member arose in the gap. An archer with skills that rivalled many others she had seen in all her years. Artemis was beautiful, and furthermore, she was exactly the sort of person Wally deserved. She was ready to give wholeheartedly and was steadfast in her beliefs. Riley wavered too easily, and her loyalties seemed too unfixed between family and friends. She was also jealous and persistent in her need of adamant affection. The insecurity of their separations ran deep within her, and thus began a toxic cycle of overactive imaginations and doubt. She smothered him, begged him to withdraw with her and escape the storm of darkness harping at their doors.

Yet his reluctance drove her further into grief, and a girl of seventeen could not so easily feign the emotions that swallowed her whole. That was what led them there, and thus began the unmistakable path of aberration and damnation. It had to have been the sixth time he walked out of her, the fight so loud it echoed in the dark and dreary halls of Wayne Manor. Bruce was out on business, and Alfred otherwise occupied far away as to not disturb. No one was there to hear her cries, no one but the teenage youngster so ready to adhere to his sister's side.

Jason meant well, and he always had, but the reality of his affections had been misunderstood for years. He cared for her deeply and was thus enamoured by her in many ways. He had hidden his childish crush in the beginning, afraid to offend his new father by his growing infatuation with his daughter, but found that each day it grew tenfold. It had infuriated him when the redheaded speedster had repeatedly broken her heart. She had deserved far better, someone who would be unendingly loyal to her no matter what. That was why he was the first to _inform_ his sister what transpired in her absence with the speedsters newfound flirtations with the blonde archer.

On this particular night, he had been quick to attend to her, bringing a soft but serious smile and a glass of whatever he stole from his father's liquor cabinet. While Riley particularly wasn't interested in the drink, she took it grateful for the thought. They sat together in her room for hours that night, speaking of a variety of things to occupy her mind from the suffering at hand. Just as they always had, lie side by side as the moon rose into the depths of the sky, as with an empty glass upon her nightstand Jason tried to sooth the girl into a peaceful sleep. While the lull of rest did take her closer, she was awake enough to feel the fifteen-year-old snuggle up against her, a brief peck pressed upon her lips before hiding away into the pillow. She thought little of it then, but as each day rolled on - it slowly became an overbearing focus.

At first, she thought it a dream, but as the days passed, the dark haired beauty caught his gaze far more than normal. Why had she not noticed this before? When had this begun? She thinks, perhaps, she should bring it up to Bruce, and hope that the man would be merciful to the boy. He was only just a child after all, at least, that was how she thought of him. His gesture was kind, and despite her genuine hope they could remain how they were, things began to change. His touches felt heavier and his requests all the more gentile. It was like watching a dance begin and being completely inept in the steps.

The only good that came of it, was the distraction needed for her relationship. Her fixation on unravelling her brother's new course of actions gave air between the speedster and herself. However, it also gave a new sense of worry, as Wally was unaccustomed to her restraint. It was two weeks before he came back around, and even then stayed briefly before he was called away on a mission. It was disheartening to watch him go, but somehow she felt not the pangs of agony she was so familiar with.

She knew it was wrong, she knew it was a horrid thing to enjoy the attention so solely focused on herself. Yet she couldn't find the words to end it, nor could she allow the actions to become known. When others would put peel to paint on the young man's actions, she did not speak up when he continued to tuck himself into her bed at night. When his arm wrapped around her waist in a departing squeeze, she didn't prickle any longer with discomfort at the lingering affections. It was steady, it was stable, and god save her - it was better than the overwhelming waves of fear that choked her with Wally.

Riley never had to compete when it came to Jason's attention, nor did she had to erase her hopes of a future. It was a kind of tranquillity that never pushed too far on the realms of right and wrong, even though the thought often dwelled in the back of her mind. Yet even that could not be a peace, for despite her finding a rhythm of ease between the two - her stability was the catalyst for the others unruly discomforts. Wally was no longer constantly requested at her side and thus found confusion at his place there. He no longer knew if she wanted to continue their relationship, and for the first time found himself looking for any that may tread within his path. While her insecurity breed issue, his loyalty to her had NEVER wavered. Wally **_loved_** her, his best friend, more than anything in the world. He had full intentions of following after her when the time was right and was simply waiting for another to take his place.

Jason, however, saw the speedster as an obstacle in his way. He knew that if he could separate the cancer that attached itself to his sister - he could allow her the mobility to pursue her dreams. West would never release the mask, and ultimately would choose the life of Riley, thus breaking her heart once again. Perhaps he got some satisfaction in her devotions? The number of times she felt so lost, the number of times she was left crying alone - how could someone be so cruel? To play with the heart of something so pure, so valiant, so loving? Jason would never betray her like that, nor would he ever allow her to continuously face abuse at the others hands.

Thus began the unhealthy arrangement, a death dance so to speak, where despite her heart being lost to Wally West from the age of thirteen - her brother's manipulations seemed to hold the power of her entire being. Wherever there was despair, whenever there were frustrations to be had, he was there to soothe her loneliness by tenfold. Perhaps that was the cruelty of it all, perhaps that was the catalyst for so much grief, but in the moment it was safe - _it was pure_. He boy she had coddled from the point of utter despair and delinquency now revived and relieved the darkest confines of her being. What was she to do? How was she to fair? Was it truly wrong to hold such an intimacy of the mind and heart with someone forever locked in the matrimony of relations? He was her brother, someone she loved so dearly, and wanted nothing more than to give him the greatest happiness they could afford. Yet she could not give him her soul, she could not give him _her_ in all its entirety, no matter what he may covet. That was already held by someone else, someone she loved just as passionately if only in a different way.

She thought everything would be okay, that they would figure out how this dance would end without harming anyone. Alas, that was not how it ended, and instead of a beautiful crescendo came the very worst of grief. When Jason was killed, her heart was irreversibly broken, and in a time she needed Wally the most - he never came. It was madness that was far crueller than the monster that had inflicted this upon her. The doubts were unimaginable, and the fury matched without reprieve. Minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to days. All alone, forgotten by the one she trusted most.

When she approached Bruce on the matter, hoping perhaps that her father would be able to offer some advice that could repair what fragile barriers stood between her and utter seclusion, she found her answer. Standing in the middle of his study, stood her father holding tightly a leather bound journal. Initialled in gold leaf was Jason Todd Wayne, and before words could come to pass the very worst was imagined and foretold. What, perhaps, surprised her most was the lack of fury, the almost numb approach to his son revealing his obsession with his sister in printed ink. The vilest details of his imagination passed from page to page, and the only question hung stale within the air between the two. ' _Did you encourage this?_ '

At first, she did not know how to answer, blue eyes widened in fear and mortification - and worst of all, _doubt_ in her answer. While never did she allude to any desires beyond that of familial bonding, she knew Jason's affections ran deeper than average. The kiss, that blasted kiss, burned into her memory for all her days to come. Tears found fresh upon her gaze, and quickly she fell in shame before him. It was an answer, not in words so much as action, and it was enough to erupt a domino effect of agony. She confessed to him her brother's actions and thus revealing her lack of conviction to stop it. Riley tried to explain, tried to find words that could convey the reason for her reluctance to put end to the childish delusions of her now departed brother. Yet she couldn't, only found that the babbling mess she became was silenced with withering glances of disappointment and what she could only conclude to be shame.

Days passed in silence, and misery breed fear which in turn fell into emptiness. Finally, when the one spark of sunshine did arrive upon her doorstep, her heart had fallen too far. Wally did come, days late after the tragedy, but he came with flowers and chocolates hoping to soothe what pains he could, citing his mentor having kept him away so that the personal grieving may pass in the public frame. That goofy smiled boy, freckles spotted over his cheeks as his soft laugh tried to muscle some sort of glimmer from the shadow cast eyes. He tried to help her, he wanted to see his feisty little warrior return to his arms if only for a moment, but she was filled with decay. Retracting from all manner of goodness or pleasures, her eyes cast down no matter what was prompted.

He stayed for hours, at first _adamant_ in his attempts to quell her woe, then fell into mutual silence sitting at her side perhaps hoping to relieve her pain by proxy. Somehow that broke her heart more, his innocent refusal to let her bear her agony alone - if he only knew what she was, if he found out how disgusting she could truly be. Not only had she cost her brother his life, but now she was costing Wally his happiness. Perhaps she had been doing that for a long time, dragging him belong in his shadow when he was destined for the sun. She didn't deserve him, and she knew she had to let him go.

He tried to argue, he tried to say she just needed time to heal, but she knew it could no longer continue. She released him from his obligation to her, a phrasing that seemed to shatter him in a single blow, and requested that he no longer return to the Manor. In the most heart-wrenching moments of her life, she remained steadfast and absolute, as there were no more tears left to be had. She told him he deserved to be happy, he deserved to be with a person would give him everything he wanted, be everything he wanted, as she no longer felt capable of doing. When finally no argument was left to be had, and she was unyielding in her decision, he departed without further resistance. Leaving only the flowers and half eaten chocolates in his wake, she felt then a rush of overwhelming anguish at the void that now was her heart.

In the course of a week, Riley Grayson had lost the two sides of her heart, both by her own admission, completely and utterly her fault. No longer did the glories of the mask seem appealing, no longer did a world rising out of the shadows of Bruce Wayne seem gratifying. All the rang true was the lulling sound of rain and thunder, and the soft prayers of a morning awoken from the hellish nightmare that had quickly become her life.

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New chapter sooner than I thought, just couldn't get this out of my head quick enough to help put a little more context into all the craziness, which is why it's a bit shorter than the rest. Like I've said before, comments and likes always help keep me motivated! Questions too are always welcomed. Thanks (:


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